


let the burning remind you that you're alive

by celestial_nova



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Happy Birthday Kyoko!!, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lowercase, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, at the end, but its like barely there dont worry, cause i was on my phone and also for the Aesthetic, dont take hot showers kids think of ur skin, i guess??, im posting this at 12 am and it really shows, no one gets over dr3, past mentions of being in a coma??, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 14:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestial_nova/pseuds/celestial_nova
Summary: it felt like she was floating.well, truly, it didn’t feel like anything, because she couldn’t feel anything. her nerves had all shut down, and she was reduced to an empty numbness. this wasn’t the usual kind that showed up when you sat for too long, accompanied by waves of pin-pricks down your legs - this was a complete and utter lack of feeling, as if she had simply lost her sense of touch.or: kyoko has a nightmare that blurs the line between dreams and memories.





	let the burning remind you that you're alive

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday kyoko ily
> 
> it was still oct 6 where i was when i posted this so technically i'm not late

it felt like she was floating. 

well, truly, it didn’t  _ feel _ like anything, because she  _ couldn’t _ feel anything. her nerves had all shut down, and she was reduced to an empty numbness. this wasn’t the usual kind that showed up when you sat for too long, accompanied by waves of pin-pricks down your legs - this was a complete and utter lack of feeling, as if she had simply lost her sense of touch. 

the same could be said for her other senses as well. her eyes, while they were open (at least, she thought they were - she couldn’t feel if they were or not), “saw” nothing but a never-ending sea of black. total, perfect silence surrounded her, oppressive and overbearing, pressing down on her ears like weights. there were no smells or tastes to be experienced, and even if there were, she knew they would have no effect. she couldn’t feel her tongue, or the rise and fall of her chest, or even the distant and muffled thud of her heartbeat. she was trapped within her own mind, curled up in her brain and buried amongst her thoughts. 

aside from that, it was cold. even though she couldn’t feel anything, she still knew it was cold. it was a cold that settled deep in her bones, absorbed by every fiber of her being. it was a frigid, all-encompassing cold that melded with her entire body, like being frozen into a block of ice. 

_ is this... death?  _

no, it couldn’t be. she refused to believe it. 

kyoko had never believed in an afterlife - she never placed her faith in anything without concrete evidence - but she always wondered if there was something beyond the final moments of life. the idea of some eternal resting place, surrounded by the people she once knew (a certain few came to mind - one with pale hair and a face she couldn’t quite remember, and another with red glasses and a cheerful grin), had admittedly sounded nice, but she honestly thought there would just be an end. she would close her eyes for the last time, and that would be it. floating in this darkness until the end of time was worse than any kind of hell she had ever heard of. she would have chosen boiling lava and purging flames over this in a heartbeat.

the idea of this… absolute  _ nothing _ being her eternal resting place terrified her. she thought of existing here in this terrible limbo for days upon months upon years, and complete, raw fear crashed over her like a tsunami. it was a fear more pure than anything she had ever felt in her life. it was raw and unadulterated terror, and it became all she was aware of, all she could focus on, sending her into a downward spiral. she wanted to cry. she wanted to scream. she wanted to kick and thrash and writhe. she wanted to claw at her skin until she bled and bled and  _ bled  _ and all the fear and terror of flowed out of her veins in a crimson river.

she wanted to leave. she wanted to leave. she wanted to leave she wanted to leave she wanted  _ out _ , out of this infinite nightmare, where until the end of forever all she knew was dark, silent, still and numb, cold cold cold,  _ so fucking cold _ , and for a moment she wanted to laugh and spit on enoshima’s grave because  _ this  _ was despair, in its truest and most perfect form.

she would give anything for just one moment back in the real world, where she could see and hear and feel and _exist_. just one moment to commit the sensation of being alive to her memory, so she would never forget what it was like, for all of this dreadful eternity. 

but still, somewhere in the back of the chaos in her mind, she realized she didn’t regret her decision. even though this was the epitome of suffering - even though this was the worst torture she could ever endure, and would do  _ anything _ to make it end - the only alternative was, in her opinion, so much worse. 

if this truly was the afterlife, she would never subject makoto to it. not so soon, when he still had so much life to live, so many more people to inspire hope in. she wouldn’t be the last person that he saved. 

so she resigned herself to the indefinite nothing. 

the pitch-black nothing, the deafeningly silent nothing, the numb and still nothing, where all she did was float, all she knew was herself, and all she felt was cold, cold, cold cold cold  _ cold- _

when kyoko woke up, tears spilling out of her eyes as they snapped open, she was shaking. violent, full-body shivers that made her teeth chatter.  _ it was just a nightmare, _ she realized, and relief hit her like a tidal wave.  _ but why am i still so cold? _

she burrowed further under the blanket that had become tangled in her arms and legs, curling up into a tight ball, trying desperately to chase away the cold. she breathed on her hands, she rubbed her arms, and pulled her entire body under the covers, but nothing helped. no matter what she did, the cold still wrapped around her in a frigid embrace. it felt like her muscles and bones were frozen solid. 

she poked her head back above the blanket. her eyes caught a flash of red, and she sucked in a gasp, her heartbeat skipping into a higher gear.  _ passing the fourth time limit with makoto naegi alive _ , words carved into every breath she took, rang through her mind like the bang of a gavel condemning someone to the death penalty, and she felt her body temperature drop even further. but the numbers  _ 5:34  _ blinked back at her instead of a series of characters that sealed her fate, and she sighed in shaky relief. 

even though her brain knew that she was awake, that she was here and safe and  _ alive _ , she still felt the icy cold of almost-death spreading through her veins and chilling her blood. it was something she couldn’t will away; the cold and the fear mixing into something toxic and corrupting her. 

she wanted to be warm. she so desperately wanted to be warm. she wanted to be  _ hot _ , to be trapped in suffocating heat, to feel like she was evaporating. she hated fire, she despised it more and more every time she looked at her hands, but right now she was just  _ so damn cold _ , and it felt the exact same as when she had hovered in-between life and death, trapped in the infinite void. she didn’t want to be cold. she wanted to be warm. she wanted to move on. she wanted to leave it all behind. she wanted to be alive. she didn’t want to be cold. 

she wanted to  _ burn.  _

an idea drifted to the surface of her mind, like a glacier floating through the arctic, and kyoko threw off the blankets in haste. a shudder combed through her when the cool air hit her skin. she stumbled to the bathroom, the unnatural cold coursing through her limbs giving a lead-like weight to her steps. staggering across the tile floor, frost-coated hands fumbled with the shower nozzle, and when she finally got a grip on it, she cranked it as far as it would go. 

kyoko caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and stared at it for a moment. she was still shivering. her hair was a mess, the braid she had worn to bed nothing more than a tangled clump. her arms were hugged around her, creasing the already-wrinkled camisole she slept in. she could see dark shadows beginning to form under her eyes, which were half-lidded and tinted pink, most likely from crying. there were four red stripes painted down each arm, and she distantly realized she must have scratched herself when her dream-self wished to. she wondered if she had screamed as well. 

“pathetic,” she whispered bitterly. she glared at her reflection, and it returned the gesture with equal force. or maybe it held even greater hostility, she mused, as shame built up in her stomach the longer she held her own gaze. 

then the mirror clouded over, and the eye contact was broken. 

kyoko stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a disorganized pile on the floor, instead of folding them like usual. as predicted, the cold got worse, and she felt goosebumps rippling across her newly-exposed skin. she tore her hand through her hair, wincing as her scarred fingers snagged on tangled knots. she wanted to work the once-braid out of her hair, but she couldn’t stand the cold any longer, and so she left it be as she stepped into the shower and directly under the water. 

kyoko immediately hissed in pain as the scalding water hit her back. it burned it burned it  _ burned _ , but that’s what she wanted, right? she wanted the freezing claws of her brush - no,  _ collision _ \- with death to melt away, like winter crashing into summer, pristine white snow bleeding into the ground. 

so she ignored the way it felt like her skin was on fire, and ignored the phantom pain that shot through her hands, and forced down the memories that tore through her mind like a wildfire. the face and voice of a girl that she didn’t want to remember but never wanted to forget. the burning reminded her of when she felt the most alive; watching someone else die because of her (and somewhere amidst the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, she heard the  ** _bang bang bang_ ** of the second time she had made that same mistake). white-hot pain pelted against her back like a rainstorm straight from hell, and she let it set her nerves ablaze, ignoring every instinct that screamed at her to get as far away as possible. 

the fire that burned along her skin distracted her from the ice that filled her body. 

* * *

makoto groggily opened his eyes to the sound of a shower kicking on. if that wasn’t confusing, the lack of warmth on his left side was - kyoko almost always woke up before he did, but she waited for him to wake up before getting out of bed. rolling over to find the other half of the bed empty confirmed that kyoko was already up, which was odd, considering their alarm hadn’t gone off - unless he had slept through it again. but a quick glance at the clock on his nightstand, which read  _ 5:47 _ , refuted that theory. 

makoto sat up slowly, deciding it was no use to sleep for 13 more minutes. he looked towards his bathroom to find steam rolling through the not-quite-closed door, and his brow furrowed in confusion. kyoko never took very warm showers since she didn’t like to waste hot water, and she always showered in the evening as a way to wind down before bed. so unless some random stranger was using their shower, something was off. 

sliding out of bed, makoto walked towards the bathroom with light footsteps. there wasn’t any reason to be quiet, but for some reason, the atmosphere demanded it. and makoto had no reason to deny its request. 

he pushed the door open further with a soft and hesitant touch, and when he poked his head in he was instantly greeted by a rush of hot air. the first thing he saw was a pale shape in the frosted glass of the shower door, standing completely still. 

“kyoko…?”

he thought he might have seen her flinch, but otherwise he got no response. mixed with the pajamas clumped together on the floor, his concern for kyoko skyrocketed, and he stepped into the room. there was a thin cloud of steam hovering near the ceiling, and the mirror was completely blurred over. he tip-toed over to the shower, quiet for reasons he still couldn’t discern. 

he rapped his knuckles softly against the glass. “kyoko? it’s me, makoto…”

this time, his words didn’t even garner a physical response. it was as if she was trapped in her own bubble of a world, one that makoto wasn’t a part of. he was well accustomed to allowing kyoko her personal space - she had always been a solitary person, and she still needed time to herself. but this wasn’t personal space; it was personal confinement, a prison constructed from her own mind. 

he stepped back from the door, blinking at how much steam had accumulated in the room, even with the bathroom door open. just how hot was the water? on a whim, he drew a small heart on the mirror, then watched as it was quickly filled in by the fogging of the glass. makoto felt himself frown. 

kyoko had never liked heat, whether it came from a bonfire or warm weather. summer was always her least favorite season - she preferred the crispness of autumn, or even the biting chill of winter. which was why makoto was so confused; for as long as he’s known her, she’s always liked the-

_ “cold,” kyoko had said, sitting in a hospital bed. there was a bandage on her left cheek, and a patch that covered her eye as it healed, her left arm cradled in a sling. she hated being cooped up like this - he could tell by the way her free hand kept fidgeting with the sheets, and how her leg would sometimes bounce from underneath the blankets.  _

_ makoto had tilted his head at her, confused. she hadn’t spoken much once she had been admitted to the hospital, and when she did, it was in short and clipped sentences in a voice too raspy for his liking. but this… this was just one word. “do you want me to ask them to turn up the temperature?” _

_ she had shaken her head slowly, and hesitated before speaking again, her voice small and unsteady. “it was… cold. when i…” the nervousness in her tone and the way she trailed off told him what she couldn’t put into words.  _

_ ‘it was cold when i died for you.’ _

_ makoto hadn’t known what to say, so he simply nodded, trying to focus on counting the folds in the sheets instead of how fragile kyoko seemed. her voice, the bandages, the way she avoided mentioning her almost-death; it just wasn’t the kyoko that he knew, and the thought stung the back of his eyes with unshed tears.  _

makoto took a shuddering breath, a lump rising in the back of his throat as he remembered the conversation. it hadn’t even been a year since the final killing game - after being in the hospital for two months, kyoko was discharged four months ago, and she had moved in with makoto since the doctors wanted someone to keep an eye on her - so nightmares were, expectedly, a common occurrence. at least once a week, one of them would be woken up by the other with shaking hands and teary eyes (except for when makoto screamed so loud that kyoko bolted up, fearing the worst; or when kyoko would walk around the next day with shadowed eyes and he knew that she hadn’t woke him like she had promised she would. 

he never said anything).

his mind pieced everything together rather quickly - he guessed that was the only positive impact that the killing school life had left on him. looking back, kyoko’s side of the bed had been a mess, with the sheets untucked and the comforter kicked to the side. added to her being awake and out of bed before their alarm, and the warm, early-morning shower that didn’t fit her character, and all the signs pointed to a nightmare. 

by now he knew that calling out her name was useless; if she didn’t respond before, repeating the same action wouldn’t get different results. seeing no other choice, and hoping it wasn't an invasion of privacy, he pulled the shower door ajar slowly and carefully. kyoko still didn’t give a reaction; she didn’t speak or move, and it hardly looked like she was even breathing. makoto felt his heart twist in his chest. slowly, he poked his head into the shower, finally getting a glimpse of kyoko that wasn’t blurred by condensated glass. his eyes drifted over her still form, and when they reached her back, he gasped. 

her skin, usually a pale, lily-white shade, was now a harsh and burning red; an angry splash of unwelcome color blotched over her spine and shoulder blades, marking where the water hit her back. a fresh wave of concern washed through him as he pieced the situation together, and tentatively, he reached out to put a hand under the cascading water. 

“agh-!” he immediately pulled his hand back, wincing at how hot the water was. shaking his hand as if the pain would sling off with the water, he looked over to see the water nozzle pushed to its upper limit, and felt a burst of alarm. acting on a mix of instinct and panic, he grabbed the nozzle, pulling it to “off” so quickly that it made a  _ thunk  _ sound as it hit the lower limit. 

from the corner of his eye, makoto saw kyoko’s hands twitch. then she shivered, which wouldn’t have worried him if it didn’t seem so  _ violent _ . it wasn’t the normal shiver that accompanied a temperature change; those usually only lasted for a few seconds, and were hardly noticeable. this was more like the shaking of someone dressed for summer trapped out in a snowstorm. it was a full-body shudder, causing all of her to tremble with no signs of stopping. 

kyoko’s hands found their way to her arms (were those scratch marks?) and rubbed up and down, but the moments seemed jerky and automatic, like a reflex instead of a thought-through action. the loose braid makoto had woven together the night before had been reduced to a series of knots that hung limply over her shoulder, and her back was still red, red like tears of blood and flashing bracelets and hazy screens- 

makoto shook his head to snap out of his daze.  _ not now _ , he thought.  _ you can have a flashback later. focus on kyoko.  _ since she was still shivering, he grabbed a dry towel - the fluffiest one they had - from the rack on the wall. slowly and softly, he draped it over her shoulders. that seemed to break her out of her trance, since she jumped as soon as the fabric touched her skin, stiffening as her muscles tensed in what he assumed was shock. he could see her back heave with a gasp that he didn’t hear. 

“hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb against her shoulders through the towel. “it’s just me, makoto.”

her posture relaxed fairly quickly, probably because kyoko was so accustomed to him comforting her that her body recognized makoto as a calming presence. once all of the tension had faded, and her spine was no longer rigid and ramrod-straight, makoto gently wrapped the towel around her, leaving them in an impromptu hug. 

“kyoko? are you with me?”

for a moment, she didn’t answer, and makoto honestly didn’t think she was going to. he had opened his mouth to try again, some other grounding technique they learned in therapy after the killing school life, when his she abruptly twisted around in his arms. her chest collided with his as she buried her face in his shoulder, and he felt her arms wrap tightly around him and her hands grab onto his shirt. she was practically clinging to him, as if he was the only reason she was still standing. makoto was still for a few beats before hugging her back, softly but firmly, pressing his cheek against the side of her head and securing his hold around her waist. 

he felt her shoulders start to shake, and he thought it was another bout of shivering until he heard a quiet, strangled sob, muffled by the cloth of his old t-shirt. he felt tears drop on his shoulder, and his heart felt like it was breaking down the middle. he  _ hated  _ watching kyoko cry. so he rubbed her back and murmured soothing words in her ear, holding her as she cried, waiting patiently for it all to pass so he could wipe the tears from her eyes. he’d wait as long as it took. 

after what could have been a minute and could have been an hour, kyoko stilled, her hands releasing the parts of makoto’s shirt that had been twisted in a vice-like grip. all of her weight seemed to fall against him, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. he just held her tighter. 

“are you okay? you can cry more, if you want to.” she shook her head, and it was a small movement, hardly even there, but it was better than nothing. “okay. let’s get you into some clean, warm clothes. think you can do that?” she nodded, and gathered the cloth of the towel in front of her, holding it like a shawl, before nudging out of his grasp. makoto re-settled his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean against him as they left the bathroom. 

* * *

kyoko, clad in a pair of flannel pajamas, sat on the edge of the bed, folded up with her arms around her legs, while makoto shuffled around in the closet. the spoils of his efforts were two thick blankets that he carried into their bedroom. one - a soft baby blue that was usually only brought out in the dead of winter, for nights filled with hot cocoa and old stories - was bundled around her with gentle hands. the other, a patchwork quilt made by an older, motherly member of the 14th branch, was sat beside her if she needed it. 

“do you need anything else? i can make tea, or coffee, or turn up the thermostat…” kyoko said nothing as makoto tapped a finger on his chin, a habit she’s sure he picked up from her. “on second thought, maybe we should do something about your back. it looked pretty red, maybe we should put ice on it…”

he trailed off into a mumble as he turned towards the door, and even though she  _ knew _ he wasn’t leaving, and he never would, something in her tripped the panic alarm and her hand shot out to grab his wrist. he stopped ( _ thank god, thank god _ ) and looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “kyoko?”

“stay,” she whispered, and she hated how weak and fragile she sounded, but as soon as he let her go so she could get dressed the chills had returned, and they weren’t as bad but they were  _ still there _ , and she wanted them  _ gone.  _

makoto pursed his lips, and she knew he was worried. this wasn’t like her, after all. but he still smiled, and sat next to her, the mattress sinking beneath them. he opened his arms, and she all but collapsed into his embrace. she hated how desperate she seemed, and her childish actions hurt her pride, but she needed him. she would admit that on any given day. especially now, when he was the only thing that melted the frost that coated her senses. he was the only thing that kept the memories at bay. 

“i’m guessing you had another nightmare?” makoto murmured. something choked up in her throat, and all she could do was nod. “was it about-” he cut off, his voice thick with unsung emotion, before swallowing and starting again. "was it about your… your coma?” she nodded once more. makoto’s arms tightened around her, and she instinctively snuggled closer to him. “wanna tell me about it?”

kyoko took a deep, shuddering breath, but she didn’t speak. it felt like her lips had been frozen shut - which she supposed was fitting, given the context of her nightmare - and she wouldn’t be able to say anything even if she wanted to. then makoto kissed the crown of her head, and it was soft and sweet and serene; but most of all, it was  _ warm _ , and that warmth spread from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, thawing the last remains of ice that weighed down her limbs. she was finally rid of that deathly cold, and how fitting it was that makoto was the one to free her from it. 

(honestly, she should have figured that out sooner; he was the one who had “melted the ice queen” back at hope’s peak, when they were just two kids with a crush, before they became each other’s lifelines.)

“it’s okay, kyoko,” makoto whispered. “you’re alive. you’re alive, and you’re here with me, and i’m never gonna let you go again.”

and that’s what broke the dam; that’s what pried open her lips, all of the details of her dream tumbling out in an incoherent mess of emotions. somewhere along the way, she started crying again, and she hated every sob but she hated the pain in her chest from suppressing them even more. so she let it all out, safe from unwelcome eyes, in a world that ended with the walls of their bedroom; a world where all that mattered was that  _ he _ was here, and  _ she _ was here, and everything would be okay as long as they had each other. 

when she ran out of words and tears, leaving only hiccups and dry sobs, makoto slowly pulled kyoko down with him so they were laying on the bed. he pulled away for brief, cold moment to grab the other blanket and cover them with it. kyoko twined her legs with his and pressed her forehead to his chest, anything to be closer to his warmth.

“don’t go,” she mumbled, in a hushed and rasping voice that didn’t sound like it belonged to her. “you’re… you’re the only thing that keeps the cold away.” 

makoto pressed his lips to her forehead. “i’m not going anywhere.”

a feeling of peace and security washed through her at his words, and kyoko closed her eyes, her expression content. she felt makoto move his fingers through her hair, untangling the strands of her ruined braid, and leaned into his touch. when he finished, he wrapped his arms around her waist once again, kissing her temple. 

they both called in sick that day.

**Author's Note:**

> everyone: happy bday kyoko! *fluffy and sweet fics*  
me: happy bday kyoko! *F I R E*
> 
> i finally finished something by my self-imposed deadline!! yay me!!!
> 
> kyoko is my absolute all-time favorite dr character - she has been ever since i watched it for the first time, all the way back in 2017. she's so cool and intelligent, but also caring and emotional. she's got flaws but they fit her overall character well, and over the course of the series we get to watch her grow out of them, and grow as a person. i love my wife sm
> 
> anyway this is something ive been working on for a while, and then kyoko's birthday showed up and i figured it would be really cool to post something for her birthday. and i almost didnt, its nearly midnight cause my procrastination knows no bounds
> 
> tysm @sunflower_8 for editing this mess at like... 11:30 at night god bless you
> 
> aight time to disappear for like 70 years again bye
> 
> edit 10/9/19: i was going through this in a belated error check and realized that the perspective randomly switches at the end but honestly i couldn't care less, i just wanted my hair fixing scene okay,,,


End file.
